


A Lie-In

by lyricalsoul



Series: Mycroft's In Love [18]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Bad Dreams, Comfort, Frottage, Lazy Saturday, Love Bites, M/M, Mystrade Bump 'n Grind, Sexy Times, The British Goverment Has a Lie-In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:38:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/pseuds/lyricalsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft indulges in a lie-in. Lestrade is there to help him through it. </p><p>Sexy times, people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lie-In

**Author's Note:**

> This is an interlude while I work out the next bit to this never ending saga. Thanks to all who read and leave kudos and comments. I love hearing from you, and enjoy that so many of you like this... THING.

Saturday morning, half-six. Nothing urgent pressing. Other unimportant matters on my calendar (lunch with Harry, boring dinner party with low level officials) pushed to Monday.

I look over at Gregory, who is sleeping somewhat peacefully at my side. The haggard look that has haunted him for the past few weeks is nearly gone, as are the tense lines that creased his forehead. No grinding of his teeth while he sleeps, and while he isn’t tossing and turning as much as he was, he is well on his way to sleeping better.

I’d like to hope that I’m part of the reason he’s lost that edginess, and would do anything to erase the creases of tension that have taken up residence between his eyes. Perhaps a show of… power? No…not, power. Affection is a much better term. After all, if I can’t do something decadently affectionate with the small bit of power I wield, what’s the point in having it?

I take up my mobile, and send a rapid series of texts, outlining my plans for the day. Ten minutes later, I set the mobile aside, satisfied that my plans will be implemented without a hitch.

Pulling Gregory more snugly against me, I lie back down, sighing at the feeling of contentment that washes over me.

***

An hour later, Gregory twitches, then bolts upright with a choked off gasp. Wild-eyed, he looks around in confusion. “Wha-“

“Shh…” I soothe, running a hand over his back. “It’s all right…lie down. Breathe…”

He breathes in and out for a few moments, then settles back down. “Um…” He’s still panting slightly, and his voice is unsteady. “Yeah, sorry. Shit… that was scary.”

“Bad dream?” I ask, trying not to sound too much like a mother.

“There was a serial killer…  going after clowns. I only had one arm, and Sherlock had a peg leg, but it kept coming off. We kept slipping on pies that were scattered about… hmph, doesn’t really make any sense at all.”

“Most likely your subconscious taking you to task for not eating enough vegetables or some such thing,” I say lightly. “Should have eaten your peas last night.”

“Hate peas. Hate clowns, too. Sorry for waking you.”

“Unnecessary,” I say, planting a kiss on the back of his neck. “I wasn’t asleep. I was basking in the pleasure of having a lie-in.”

“What? You, lazing about in bed on a Saturday?” He rolls over to face me. “You must be organising world domination in your head or something…”

I press in closer, and nuzzle his neck. “Nothing of the sort. No working today, not even in theory.”

“Has the world ended?” His head tilts, accepting my lips on his neck and collarbone.

“I most certainly would not be lying here, contemplating the best course of action for getting you inside me had the world ended, Detective Inspector.”

He pulls back with a frown. “You promised not to call me that in bed.”

“So I did.” I clear my throat, and meet his gaze. “While lying here, I… well, a thought occurred to me. I’d…” I shake my head. “You should know, Gregory, that I consider myself a rather eloquent speaker. I don’t understand why you make me feel as though I’ve been called into the headmaster’s office for being caught doing something naughty. I can’t seem to hold a decent conversation with you that doesn’t involve me blushing and stammering like a clot.”

His eyes narrow. “You have fantasies about being called into the headmaster’s office? Is there a ruler involved? Are you wearing those cute little knee shorts, and a tie?”

Typical that he ignores my pain in favour of exploring his lurid fantasies. “There is something seriously wrong with you,” I sigh. “No, I do not have any such fantasies, though it appears you do. Which isn’t at all surprising, I suppose. What I’m trying to say is that if you’ve no plans, I’d like to take you out for the day.”

With a smile that just about melts my heart, he says, “Of course. What did you have in mind?”

“Would you be willing to allow me to keep you in the dark as to my plans? I assure you that it will be both Sherlock and incident free.”

“Do I have to dress up?”

“No.”

“Do you?”

I think about that for a moment. “Not particularly. I do have casual clothes, as you well know.”

“Says the man in monogrammed pyjamas.” He rolls on top of me, and smiles down at me. “I think your definition of casual and mine are worlds apart. I’d love to see you in a nice, soft pair of well-fitting jeans and a football kit.”

“Unlikely,” I say solemnly. “’After all, there is a reason you constantly refer to me as posh.”

“You are. And you have no jeans. Just how casual will you be?”

“I’ll surprise you, and will relish the look of admiration on your face when you see me.” 

“Mmm…” He kisses me lightly, then moves away to lick my neck. “Can’t wait. I have a fantasy about you in a soft leather coat, worn jeans, and no shirt...”

“One of thousands, it seems.” I spread my legs to accommodate him. “What… oh my…” I shiver as his lips latch on to my collarbone. “What do you want for breakfast?”

“You,” he growls, tracing his tongue into the hollow of my throat, and down to the vee of my collar.  He unbuttons my pyjama shirt with nimble fingers, and pushes the flaps aside. “Beautiful… What kind of shirt are you wearing today?”

“Hm?” I can’t concentrate with his tongue swirling across my chest.

“Focus, Mastermind… your shirt. What kind?”

“Oh… ah… button down.” One of my legs lifts and fits around his waist. Perhaps I lifted it, or it lifted automatically in a Pavlovian response to the motion of his tongue on my skin. Either way, it sets me on fire. “Gregory…”

“Easy, easy,” he croons, sucking at my collarbone. “I’m going to mark you here, and you’re not going to whine about it, yeah?”

“Please,” I say, surprised at how shaky I sound.

He sucks harder, moving his hips down to grind against mine as I lift them. When he adds the gentle scrape of his teeth, my whole body tingles with need. “God, Gregory… what are you doing to me?”

He pulls away from my neck with a smack of his lips. “Oh, my, my… sweet as a peach, and just as ripe.” He touches my collarbone, and smiles. “That’ll last a day or two, then I’ll give you another… inside of your thigh, maybe. Or here…” He nips at the middle of my forearm. “So sweet…”

“You are hell on my habits,” I say, tugging his head down for a kiss. I feel the heat and hardness of his cock against my own even through the cotton of his pants, and shiver in anticipation.

“Mmm…” The kiss intensifies as he takes control. His hand skims across my back, down to cup my arse. He pulls me against him, fitting us together perfectly. “Mmph…”

I break the kiss and arch against him. “Gregory, please.”

“When you say my name like that, I can tell you're ready… you’re gasping for it, for me, and you want me to hurry along and make you come. Am I right, Mycroft? Are you ready for me…?”

“Yes, yes,” I say, twisting in frustration. “Do something… “

“What do you want me to do?”

“Anything,” I pant, “everything. Just… please!”

“God, I love you like this – hot and needy, wanting me, hungry for me. Sweaty, and rock hard, wanting to fuck… You make me feel so special, ‘cause I’m the only one who can make you feel like this, the only one who’s ever made you come just from snogging… am I right, my sweet peach? Tell me…”

I want to object – to the nickname, to the smug words, but they’re true, and there’s no sense in trying to deny what I feel at this point, since I’d be lying. After all, surely he’d call me out, seeing as I’m writhing against him, with one leg hooked around his waist, and the other coming to rest on his shoulder. “Yes, yes, finish it… please…”

“Yeah,” he groans. He swirls his tongue around my nipple, then laps at it, slurping lewdly. “Sweet, sweet… god…” His hips move forward hard and sharp, and he ducks down, latching his mouth on the spot just to the left of my nipple.

The feel of his lips and teeth tugging at my flesh is too much. I can’t help sliding my hands inside his pants to cup his arse, can’t help running my thumbs along the crease, dipping in between his cheeks, brushing my thumb across his hole. He groans and bits me harder, pushing back against my thumbs, his hands shifting to my hips for purchase. “Mycroft,” he moans, and the sound – deep and lusty, arouses me even further.

I move upwards, faster, harder, as I feel the familiar tingling in my spine. The realisation that I’m going to come, and that I’m going to do so still clothed is one of the most arousing thing I’ve ever experienced. I sink my teeth into his shoulder, and arch upward as orgasm hits me like a bullet train. “God…” I moan, and tighten my leg around his waist. I have the presence of mind to move my thumb against his hole again, which pushes him over the edge with a loud, lewd groan, and a somewhat painful bite on my chest.

“Damn it, Mycroft,” he pants, licking the mark he made, soothing the slight sting. “Sorry.”

“Shh,” I whisper, moving my thumbs, and dropping my legs. “It’s all right. I find that I enjoy making you lose control.”

“Mmm…” is all he can manage.

We lie quietly for nearly ten minutes, then he heaves himself up, kisses me soundly, and rolls out of bed. “Shower. You’re welcome to join me.”

“I would love to.” I sit up and smile at the dark mark of my thumb on his arse. “Your tone suggests that I am capable of more than showering at this point, which is impossible. But, the spirit is very willing.”

“Is it?” His dark eyes rake over my body, and just like that, I’m heating up.

“Gregory, you are positively wanton.”

“Only with you, for you. Must be those long legs, and that sweet skin that tastes like peaches.” He smiles, and it’s wicked and teasing. “I’m hungry, and was promised breakfast, and you in casual clothes. I’m looking forward to it. Don’t dawdle.”

“I never dawdle,” I retort.  With a back-cracking stretch, I ease myself out of bed, mindful that the stickiness of my pyjama bottoms is no longer sexy. “You have utterly ruined me, Gregory. I don’t know how I came to deserve you, but I am extremely grateful.”

“Show your gratitude by washing my back,” he calls from the en suite. “And my hair.”

“With pleasure.” I sigh with contentment and join him. I should have a lie-in more often.

TBC…

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
